Valentine gasped. “The Metamorphs—causing the plagues—spreading the plagues—?”
“Yes, my lord. Y-Uulisaan told us all. We were—ah—not gentle with him. In secret laboratories here in Piurifayne the Metamorphs have for years developed cultures of every enemy of our crops that has ever afflicted them. And when they were ready, they went forth in a thousand disguises—some of them, my lord, actually went to farmers masquerading as provincial agricultural agents, pretending to offer new ways of increasing farm yield, and secretly scattered their poisons over the fields while inspecting them. And also certain creatures were let loose by air, carried by birds that the Metamorphs released. Or things were sprayed, and became drifting clouds—”
Stunned, Valentine looked toward Sleet and said, “Then we have been at war, and did not know it!”
“We know it now, my lord,” said Tunigorn.
“And I have been traveling through the kingdom of my enemy, thinking in my foolishness that all I needed to do was speak soft words, and open my arms in love, and the Danipiur would smile and the Divine would bless us once again. But in truth the Danipiur and her people have been waging a terrible war against us all the while, and—”
“No, my lord,” Deliamber said. “Not the Danipiur. Not so far as we know.”
“What do you say?”
“The one whom Y-Uulisaan served is named Faraataa, a being consumed with hate, a wild man, who could not get the Danipiur to give her backing to his program, and therefore went off with his followers to launch it himself. There are two factions among the Metamorphs, do you see, my lord? This Faraataa leads the radical ones, the war-hungry ones. It is their plan to starve us into chaos and compel us to leave Majipoor. Whereas the Danipiur appears to be more moderate, or at least less fierce.”
“Then I must continue toward Ilirivoyne and speak with her.”
“You will never find Ilirivoyne, my lord,” said Deliamber.
“And why is that?”
“They have taken the city apart, and they carry it on their backs through the jungle. I feel its presence when I cast my spells—but it is a presence that moves. The Danipiur flees you, my lord. She does not want to meet with you. Perhaps it is too dangerous politically—perhaps she is unable to control her own people any longer, and fears they will all go over to the faction of Faraataa if she shows any favor toward you. I am only guessing, my lord. But I tell you, you will never find her, even if you search in this jungle a thousand years.”
Valentine nodded. “Probably you are right, Deliamber. Certainly you are right.” He closed his eyes and sought desperately to quell the turmoil in his mind. How badly he had misjudged things; how little he had understood! “This communication between Metamorphs through the minds of sea dragons—how long has that been going on?”
“Perhaps quite some time, my lord. The sea dragons appear to be more intelligent than we have thought—and there seems to be some kind of alliance between them and the Metamorphs, or at least with some Metamorphs. It is very unclear.”
“And Y-Uulisaan? Where is he? We should question him further on these things.”
“Dead, my lord,” said Lisamon Hultin.
“How is that?”
“When the storm struck, all was confusion, and he attempted to escape. We recaptured him for a moment, but then the wind tore him from my grasp and it was impossible to find him again. We discovered his body the next day.”
“A small loss, my lord,” Deliamber said. “We could have extracted little else from him.”
“I would have liked the chance to speak with him, all the same,” Valentine replied. “Well, it will not happen. Nor will I speak with the Danipiur either, I suppose. But it is hard for me to abandon that idea. Is there utterly no hope of finding Ilirivoyne, Deliamber?”
“None, I think, my lord.”
“I see her as an ally: does that sound strange to you? The Metamorph queen and the Coronal, joined in league against those who wage biological warfare against us. Folly, eh, Tunigorn? Come, speak openly: you think it’s folly.”
Tunigorn shrugged. “On that score I can say very little, Valentine. I know only that I believe Deliamber is right: the Danipiur wants no meeting with you, and will not allow herself to be found. And I think that to spend further time in quest of her now—”
“Would be foolish. Yes. Folly indeed, while there’s so much for me to do elsewhere.”
Valentine fell silent. Absentmindedly he took a couple of the juggling implements from Zalzan Kavol and began to toss them from hand to hand. Plagues, famines, false Coronals, he thought. Madness. Chaos. Biological warfare. The anger of the Divine made manifest. And the Coronal trekking endlessly through the Metamorph jungle on a fool’s mission? No. No.
To Deliamber he said, “Do you have any idea where we are now?”
“As best I can calculate, some nineteen hundred miles southwest of Piliplok, my lord.”
“How long, then, do you think it would take us to get there?”
Tunigorn said, “I wouldn’t go to Piliplok at all just now, Valentine.”
Frowning, Valentine said, “Why so?”
“The danger.”
“Danger? For a Coronal? I was there just a month or two ago, Tunigorn, and I saw no danger!”
“Things have changed. Piliplok has proclaimed itself a free republic, so the word reaches us. The citizens of Piliplok, still having ample food supplies in storage, were fearful of having those supplies requisitioned for use in Khyntor and Ni-moya; and so Piliplok has seceded from the commonwealth.”
Valentine stared as though into an infinite abyss. “Seceded? A free republic? These words have no meaning!”
“Nevertheless, they seem to have meaning for the citizens of Piliplok. We have no idea what sort of reception they would give you these days. I think it might be wise to go elsewhere until the situation becomes clearer,” Tunigorn said.
Angrily Valentine responded, “How can I permit myself to fear entering one of my own cities? Piliplok would return to its allegiance the moment I arrived!”
Carabella said, “Can you be certain of that? Here is Piliplok, puffed up with pride and selfishness: and here comes the Coronal, arriving in a worn-out floater, wearing mildewed rags. And will they hail you, do you think? They have committed treason, and they know it. They might compound that treason rather than risk yielding themselves mildly up to your authority. Best not to enter Piliplok except at the head of an army, I say!”
“And I,” Tunigorn added.
Valentine looked in dismay toward Deliamber, toward Sleet, toward Ermanar. They met his gaze silently, solemnly, sadly, bleakly.
“Then am I overthrown again?” Valentine asked, of no one in particular. “A ragged wanderer once more, am I? I dare not enter Piliplok? I dare not? And false Coronals in Khyntor and Ni-moya: they have armies, I suppose, and I have none, so I dare not go there either. What shall I do, become a juggler a second time?” He laughed. “No, I think not. Coronal is what I am: Coronal is what I shall remain. I thought I was done with this business of making repairs to my place in the world, but evidently not. Get me out of this jungle, Deliamber. Find me my way to the coast, to some port city that still gives me homage. And then we’ll go forth in search of allies, and set things to rights all over again, eh?”
“And where shall we find those allies, my lord?” Sleet asked.
“Wherever we can,” said Valentine with a shrug.